


Fuck

by Rulerofyouall



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon does not exist, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Maybe a little OOC, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, They Are My Children Now, but dc writes them ooc too so like, dc writers have lost their privileges, i make my own rules, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rulerofyouall/pseuds/Rulerofyouall
Summary: Tim sometimes stops by at Jason's safe houses if they are closer than his. Normally, it is no big deal, but this time, he stumbles upon a massacre.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Roy Harper & Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 158
Kudos: 799





	1. The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim intends to crash at Jason's but discovers something much more gruesome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! This is somewhat based off of my own experiences and depression but not entirely

Tim slid in through the window of Jason's safe house in the early hours of the morning. It had been a long patrol for him, and he didn't feel as though he had the energy to make it back safely to his own. Jason wouldn't mind. He might be annoyed, but Tim had accidentally made a habit of invading his space a long time ago. He frowned and looked around the room. The lights were still on, but there was no Jason in sight. If he had gone to bed, he always shut off the lights, but there they were, twinkling on the ceiling. The shower wasn't on either, so that ruled out that possibility. Could he have just forgotten? Tim would normally consider that, but this was Jason. Jason didn't forget things like that. He always turned the lights out at night to prevent outsiders from looking in easily and scoping out the house.

Red Robin shut the lights off, and the room plunged into darkness. He removed his mask and walked towards his bedroom. Maybe he'd be there, but Tim did not hear the sound of anyone breathing coming from there. And Jason often breathed loudly while he slept. The younger brother cracked the door slightly, but there was no one there either. It was possible that Jason had gone out on some errand or perhaps was out as Red Hood, but what sort of chore could not wait until the morning? There was no sign of any struggle. Maybe he was drugged? There was no sign of any forced entry, apart from where he entered through the window, and all of his traps were still in place.

The light was on in the bathroom too. At this point, his heart was beating quickly. It had been a relatively peaceful night for Gotham, as peaceful as it could get here, but his nerves were going off at that very moment. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. The door was locked, but he easily got through and immediately froze.

He had found Jason all right, but the sight wasn't that pretty. He was in the bathtub, fully clothed with his sleeves pulled up. Both arms were just absolutely covered in blood, staining his clothes and tainting the water red. Tim lunged forward searching desperately for a pulse and for breathing. He found both, but they were weak. Clutching both of the bloody arms, he tried to put as much pressure as he could while simultaneously reaching out.

"Oracle?"

"Yes, RR?"

"I need a Batmobile to Red Hood's safe house stat. Have medbay prepared." Tim pressed on his brother's arms, but there was just so much blood. It was everywhere: the walls, the water, even now on Tim.

Suddenly, the voice of the Bat came through the comms. "What is going on?" His voice was gruff as was usual for his hero persona, but there was an undertone of panic in it. "Red Hood wasn't out tonight. Are you hurt, Red Robin?"

"No...." Tim wanted to tug his hair in frustration, but he could not do that without further risking his brother's life. He wanted to think that this was staged. That someone had broken in, somehow beaten Jason, and made it to look like a suicide, but the detective within him denied the possibility. There were no defensive markings on his hands, and he had shone no sign of being drugged thus far. "Fuck..."

"Hood?" He didn't even comment on the language.

"Batman, he needs some help as soon as possible."

There was a brief pause. Tim assumed Bruce was trying to gather himself before continuing. "Nightwing is in the area. He'll be over shortly."

"Heard." Tim checked Jason's pulse again and looked at the time. It was early; soon, the sun would rise. "Just a warning, it's pretty gruesome."

His other older brother's voice crackled over the comms. "What the hell is going on? What happened?"

"I don't know what happened, Nightwing, but it looks like a...suicide."

"Hood?"

"Him, yeah." Tim didn't know why he was so calm at the moment; it seemed that he was incapable of any emotion at the moment. He should be terrified, shocked, and even sad, but he couldn't feel anything. 

"Fuck!" There were some other noises coming through the comms as though he were moving quickly: cars, dogs, and of course, the sound of him making his way through Gotham.

Thankfully, Dick also knew where Jason kept his traps, so hopefully, that would not slow him down. Tim wished he had more medical supplies on him. He carried very few on his person, less than what would probably be wise, and he was regretting that now. He didn't know where Jason kept his shit, but he wasn't going to leave him for that long to find it. So there he was, clutching his brothers arms with paper towels. Fucking paper towels, was that the best he had? Was that a good example of how Bruce had trained them? If his brother was going to die because of how inept he was-

He shook his head. Jason wasn't going to die. There was a Batmobile coming, and Dick was surely almost there. Alfred would have the medbay ready, and his brother would heal up in no time and talk about whatever attack had happened because Tim didn't want to think that Jason would do this to himself. Of course, Tim had to concede that he was capable of this, but he had thought that his brother would have spoken to someone first. Anyone would have dropped what they were doing if it was going to save his fucking life no matter how much Jason thought they despised him.

There was a banging coming from outside, then the sound of glass shattering. That would be Nightwing, he presumed.

"Tim?" It was. Dick's voice sounded panicked, more so than it normally did. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom."

"Oh, God." The eldest Wayne child had brought with him sterile bandages. He had not taken the time to rip the mask off of his face. "Keep pressure on it, Tim."

Red Robin nodded his head, not correcting him on his usage of his name while in costume once more. "He was already unconscious when I found him. I don't know for how long."

"Heart?"

"Weak but still there." Tim responded. "How far out is the Batmobile?"

Nightwing pursed his lips. "Like two minutes tops. Come on, we got to move him out of the tub. Towards the street." Towards the Batmobile.

Jason was taller than both of them, and as such, he weighed more than both of them. Dick took the brunt of his weight when Tim began to struggle a bit.

"B sent Robin home." Dick mumbled to Tim as they made their way through the door. "He'll meet us in the Batcave." By the tone of his voice, Tim could tell that Bruce had wanted to come here first, but Dick had convinced him not to. "Bluebird and Spoiler are still out."

A few moments after they reached the bottom floor and made their way onto the street, the Batmobile pulled up in front of them being driven remotely by Alfred.

"We need to go fast. Fast as we can." Dick spoke through the comms. "B? Is anyone a match for Hood's blood type?"

Tim let the noise fade from his hearing as he stared at his brother's arms. In the chaos of making sure that he was physically all right, a battle that had not yet been won, he had not thought of why Jason would have done this or what had triggered his actions. Sure, he knew that his brother had loads of issues stemming from all of his traumatic experiences, but Jason knew that he wasn't alone, right? He knew that they were family and that they could depend on each other, right? It hadn't been terribly long since he finally rejoined them, and it had been even more recently that he started to willingly spend time with others. Did he still have doubts in his head about his place with them?

The ride to the cave seemed to take eons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated!


	2. Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dami has some questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

"But Father," Damian sat beside Bruce and Alfred as they hurriedly prepared for the incoming Batmobile. It was still several minutes out. "Why would Todd do that?"

"He must not have been dealing with everything as well as we had thought." Bruce didn't turn to look at his youngest son, too focused on the task at hand.

The youngest sat still for a moment, just watching the two older men get out numerous different machine, sterile cloth, disinfectant, a needle, and some thread. Clearly, they were going to try to stitch his older adoptive brother back together again, but Damian did not know how successful they would be. He hadn't been there, and his father was trying to keep him out of the loop again. Ridiculous. The current Robin had seen many things over the years of his life; how was this any different? He had seen jumpers on the roofs of Gotham and talked them down. He had seen people die. He had died. Why were a few wounds located on Todd's wrists so different?

But Todd had died in the past too, long before he did. Why did he want to go back? He knew what it was like to be dead. Was it not better to be alive? To feel the beating of blood rushing around your body? To see and hear and be with others? And after spending so long away from Bruce, Dick, and everyone, why would he try to leave once again?

At the same time, Damian could completely understand him; everyone else in the family probably could as well. Once you were dead, no one would be able to hurt you anymore. There would be no more trauma, no more pain, no more suffering, only peace in a black, black void, but both Todd and he knew that death was not necessarily the end. They were torn right out of its grasp and shoved in the world of the living again.

The ambivalent nature of his understanding left him confused. Wanting to escape from his traumatic life style? Completely understandable. Taking himself completely out of the equation? Dying once again? Damian hated dying the first time, but he also hated coming back. When he was dead, there were no nightmares, no fights, no arguments. Those seemed to plague him constantly now that he was alive once more. He always thought that Todd and he were on the same page in that book. The youngest brother had sought him out on occasion about those nightmares not because he was the most comforting but because he _understood._

The Batmobile's engines roared as it rolled to a stop as close as it could get to the medical area. Grayson and Drake were out almost instantly, carefully maneuvering the remaining sibling out of the car and into the waiting arms of Bruce, who was able to quickly carry him over to the bed. Damian took in his brothers' appearances. Both Grayson and Drake looked exhausted as though they had been trying to push their very life force into Todd's flickering one. Todd looked...dead. He was drenched to the bone, obviously from the bath water the other two had to drag him out of. Despite their best efforts to stop the bleeding, he was covered in it although Damian assumed that part of that was from before Drake had found him.

Ice gripped his heart. He did not know why. He had seen bodies with countless wounds littering them, seen floors splashed with blood, so why was he reacting like this? What was different? He had seen Todd wounded before, and Alfred had always fixed him up when he was around. Normally, his family would be working on tracking down his assailant if they were not already dead or otherwise apprehended.

Perhaps that was it. There was no assailant to track down because Todd had done this to himself. But why? Was his life not infinitely better now that he wasn't fighting everyone constantly? Now that they were on relatively good terms? Why now of all times?

Drake, to his left, seemed to pick up on something along those terms as well. "Oh, God, if I didn't stop by..." He fell silent.

Damian knew that the other only crashed in on Todd if he were too exhausted to function. If he was even slightly more awake, he might not have done so, and Todd would have bled out in his bath tub. He hadn't been expecting anyone to come over. He hadn't expected anyone to notice until it was too late. Luckily, it wasn't too late now, or so he hoped.

"But you did." Grayson pointed out from where he was laid next to his brother. Both of them had A blood types, so he had volunteered to donate some. "And we're giving him the best shot he's got right now." The eldest son was normally brighter, more vibrant, but it was not the time or place for that. Damian doubted that he would be able to pull up that persona if he even tried.

There was silence for a moment, and all he could hear was the constant, relentless beep of Todd's heart rate monitor. Thankfully, it had grown stronger as the bleeding slowed. Alfred worked methodically on the stitches, one after the other, without speaking.

His father turned towards Drake. "Go clean yourself up, Tim."

He looked up immediately. "You're making me leave?"

"You need to clean yourself up." He remained steadfast. "I know you want to be with Jason right now, but you need to get all of this off of you. We'll tell you if anything happens."

Drake grumbled a bit, but he eventually relented, moving quickly towards the showers. It seemed as though he was going to try to get back here as soon as he could.

"Why would Todd not find a different way to deal with things?" Damian turned towards his father. "He could have done something else."

"I don't know." He admitted. "Jason will be able to tell us that."

The current Robin doubted he would. Even if Todd made it, which was an assumption Damian was hesitant in making based off of his current state, he would not speak to anyone for a long while, let alone about what he did. He would try to leave the Batcave as soon as he could, and then, he would disappear for a while. Despite his normal routine, Damian doubted they would let Todd disappear like that. He had just attempted suicide; there was no way anyone would be leaving him by himself until he could be trusted not to repeat his actions.

Todd would hate that. He had been fiercely independent for a very, very long time, and such a dramatic switch to being watching constantly was sure to grate on his nerves. And there was no way his father would let him go out and patrol either. Every weapon would be taken from Jason: his guns, his knives, everything.

Eventually, Grayson's blood was no longer needed, and his father sent the eldest of them to the showers as well. Drake had returned by that point, but he just stared at Todd, not speaking or making any other sound. Damian almost thought that he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, but he knew better. He was still in shock.

Apparently, Todd's wounds had been surprisingly clean, but they were still deep. Stitching him back together did not take as much time as Damian thought it would, or maybe he just hadn't been paying close enough attention to the clock. Soon enough, Alfred had done all he could and stepped away from Todd.

He had regained some of the color to his skin, but he was still very much unconscious. A lot of the water had dried off of him after they had removed his soaked clothing although there was some residual dampness. He didn't look quite right in the gown that his father had cautiously put him into. Todd hadn't been out as Red Hood tonight; he shouldn't be injured at all. Yet he was, and Damian could both understand that and be completely baffled by it all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated!


	3. Unconsciousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick holds vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!  
> Thanks to Edia1027 for le gucci prompt ideas!!!!!  
> Medical shit made up by an inexperienced bastard (me)

All was silent in the Batcave except for the now steady beeping of Jason's heart-rate monitor. Hours had passed since the Batmobile came thundering in, yet his breathing had not returned to normal. It was stronger than it had been beforehand but not where the family wanted for it to be. Speaking of his family, Dick side-eyed the staircases they had all trekked up all those hours ago; thankfully, not one of them returned as of yet. He half-expected them to have, but he was glad they were getting some sleep. Tim and Bruce especially had been awake for days on end at this point, and he didn't want Damian going without sleep for too long. This whole experience had exhausted them all, but none of them had wanted to leave. Only Bruce was able to get Dami and Tim up to bed, and only Alfred could get Bruce to go. Dick had convinced the older gentleman to sleep as well. The butler seemed worn out and looked to have aged years in the span of a few hours. That left Dick sitting by Jason's side.

His younger brother had not awoken yet. That disturbed Dick to an extent. It was extremely unlikely that he had had a vasovagal episode; after all, their entire vigilante family was used to seeing blood all the time. Also, people usually did not pass out if they lost 30% of their total blood volume. Did that mean that Jason had lost more? Dick had donated some too, and the Pit affected his healing time. Surely, it shouldn't have taken this long to have restore his blood volume if that were the case. Regardless, Alfred had lowered his heart in comparison to the rest of his body before heading upstairs. While not as experienced as Dr. Leslie Thompkins by any stretch of the imagination, Alfred had picked up on a few things over the years. Lowering his heart would increase Jason's preload, the left ventricular end-diastolic pressure, which should raise his blood pressure and increase his cardiac output. This would allow blood to flow to areas of the brain that it was starved of earlier, and this should make Jason start to wake up. Dr. Thompkins would no doubt want to run a brain perfusion scan and probably millions of other scans once she was able to make it down, but Dick was fairly confident that Jason should be awake by now. While he wouldn't put it past the fucker to fake sleeping in order to not talk to anyone, his heart rate was too slow for him to be anything but unconscious.

Dick hoped that starving his brain of blood and therefore also oxygen had no ill effects on his brother. While the Bats were unaware of just how long he had been unconscious, he had been responsive to treatment until now. Now, he just...laid there.

Naturally, the vigilante wondered what was going through Jason's mind right after the deed was done. Eventually, cerebral hypoxia would have begun to cloud his judgment and even make him become completely unaware of his surroundings, but that couldn't have been immediate. There would have been some time between the initial incident and the hypoxia where Jason would have been fully alert and aware of what he was doing. Why did he do it? What was he thinking?

Jason's breathing was okay, so obviously, oxygen was getting to his brain now. But what if they were too late? What then? The Lazarus Pit gave him accelerated healing, but could it come back from that? For normal people, a good prognosis was only really ensured if they were only unconscious for a short period of time, and even then, they might still have side effects such as seizures that continue for the rest of their life. Jason had been unconscious for much longer than that, but he was also not a normal person. Besides, it wasn't like his entire brain had been oxygen-deprived, right? He had lost a large portion of his blood, sure, but not _all_ of it. 

Before leaving, Alfred and Bruce had made sure that his blood pressure and heart rate had returned to normal, but what it that wasn't enough? What if he hadn't shown up to Jason's safe house in time? If he had been only a few seconds faster, maybe this wouldn't be happening.

Dick forced himself to calm down. Even if they didn't know the exact amount of time Jason had been unconscious, it was most likely still under 12 hours. That was good. That meant that there would be a reduced risk of permanent damage for normal people, and Dick's little brother was quite a special case. While they didn't have many scanners in the med bay itself, Alfred had noted that Jason's eyes were neither fixed nor dilated, so he was cautiously optimistic that Jason's brain stem had escaped harm. 

Even if Jason woke up soon, Dick knew that hell was going to be descending. He would not be happy here, especially not in the Batcave. No one was supposed to be in Jason's safe house but him today, so it was obvious that he didn't want anyone to know what he was doing. And waking up here would be a big sign that they did in fact know. There would also be side effects from this, he was well aware. People with mild cases of cerebral hypoxia generally still had personality changes, insomnia, vision changes, and more. But Jason was immune to all that, right?

He had never allowed any of them to test his healing factor though. While they were all aware that he did heal faster than the average joe, they did not know quite how fast or to what extent the Pit allowed him to do so. 

Thankfully, he was not expected to be back in Bludhaven for a while yet. Even if he was, there was no way he was leaving this exact spot anytime soon.

His brother looked younger than he remembered in that hospital bed. Paler, too. Jason had always been a lot whiter than some of the other bats, like Dick and Damian, but normally, his scars were not so pronounced. All of them had scars too, marks that came from years of fighting crime. Jason seemed to have more though, and now, Dick had a sneaking suspicion that not all of them came from others. He wasn't sure how he had missed them all earlier, especially the neat rows of lines that painted his brother's wrists. It was most likely due to the armor and long-sleeved shirts that Jason typically wore around them, but that was truly no excuse.

There were others, too. Similar lines were carved into his thighs and further down his legs. There were some scars that the family all knew came from his death at the hands of the Joker however. There were thick gashes that had been improperly healed, obviously coming from the swing of a metal crowbar. There was more too. While not coming from his life, Jason carried a thick, discolored scar running up and down his torso in the shape of a familiar 'Y' typical in autopsies. He also had a suspicious slash against his throat, but Dick wasn't too sure what that was from.

Jason also had pock marks from cigarettes running along his collar bones, supposedly the effects of being tortured, but knowing his brother and his tendencies better now, Dick couldn't help but wonder if that was the truth or an excuse. Besides from that, there were the typical wounds that the family all shared. Every now and then, a bad guy would get a good shot it or a good punch. Dick himself had a few scars across his body from where surgery had been required to remove bullets and fix some of his broken bones.

He checked the clock once more. If he knew his family, and he believed that he did, then, they would slowly begin crawling their way back downstairs anytime now. Bruce didn't like to stay away from them for long when they were injured; even if he didn't always know how to show it, he was very concerned about all of their wellbeing. Damian and Tim too had been reluctant to leave, so that made Dick think that they would be quick to return. That was, of course, assuming that no one drugged Tim to sleep longer (which had happened on more than one occasion). Dick doubted that they would have done that last night, however, considering the circumstances. Tim would actually murder someone if they made him stay away longer than what he had been forced to.

Dick supposed that this could have gone a lot worse. While Jason was still unconscious, he was alive at the very least, and if Tim hadn't stumbled upon him, he would have died. He hadn't had a seizure as of yet and hopefully would not, but they were still prepared for that eventuality. Since it stabilized, his heart rate and blood pressure had remained at decent rates and had not sharply declined like Dick feared it might.

Dr. Thompkins would be free to come check Jason over soon; she had promised this much. While they had grown adept at giving themselves and each other medical treatment over the years, they still wanted her to come down and look over his little brother. 

And while Dick knew that the next few steps taken once Jason awoke would be long, strenuous, and downright torturous, he was confident that Jason would bounce back. He always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and comments make me happy and give me lots of motivation!
> 
> Again, Edia1027 has all credit over some of the ideas in this story. :)


	4. The Mind of a Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd had been thrown in the Lazarus Pit all those years ago...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!  
> All right I got a bit morbid and talked about decomposition later on in the chapter....sorry

Jason never meant for it to get this far. Truly, he didn't, at least not at the start. It had been going on for a long while as evidenced by the numerous scars all neatly lined on his limbs, but he had never thought that it would escalate to the point of needing to kill himself. It was a coping mechanism, one he knew was unhealthy, but it worked. That meant he didn't care about the detrimental effects on his health. He had finally found something that would satiate the green anger inside of him. Maybe his family wouldn't see him as so much of a monster anymore.

The Lazarus Pit had many effects on him. It had healed his catatonia, made him taller, and most notably, made him angry all the time. The League had only helped him slip into the habit of murder, assault, and overall violence, and that seemed to be the only way to cure the never-ending bloodlust the green waters left him with. At the beginning, he didn't care. He was doing what was right, what Batman could not do. He didn't know many of the fuckers he put six feet under personally or anything, but the Bats had been no less horrified upon discovering heads in duffle bags and numerous murders.

It all got worse when he found out about Tim. The younger boy had wormed his way right into Jason's old spot and replaced him not only as Robin but also as Bruce's son, and to top all that off? No one had killed the Joker. Countless times, the insane clown would terrorize thousands of people, and every single time, he was merely sent back to Arkham, where he would escape from later on. Isn't it true that trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results the definition of insanity? They knew that the Joker would escape again and kill again and make people scared of their own shadow again, but they still treated him as if he had been a nonviolent drug dealer.

And then, Jason tested Bruce. He had wanted Bruce to kill the Joker, but of course, that didn't happen. Instead of putting down the actual psychopath, Batman had thrown an actual Batarang at him and slit his fucking throat. His own son's fucking throat, and all he had wanted was for someone to bring the Joker to justice, for someone to avenge the 13 year old boy who had died in a warehouse explosion after being brutally beaten.

He hadn't been able to talk right for months while his throat healed. Was that why Batman kept beating Red Hood down? To keep him silent? To keep him in hiding while his injuries heal? Was it an 'out of mind, out of sight' thing? Jason knew that his "memorial" to the second Robin was still up in the Batcave. Had someone forgotten to tell Bruce that he was alive or something? He had been living; the memorial wasn't necessary then. It might be soon.

Eventually, he had realized that his pit rage was getting seriously out of control. He hadn't noticed soon enough to stop him from trying to kill Tim, but it was better late than never. If he kept making himself a problem for the Bats, they might take care of him in a way he didn't want. It would have been interesting to see if they would decide he had to die, but he knew that Bruce would never break his sacred rules. They would throw him into Arkham, throw away the key, and forget about him. And who else was in Arkham a good portion of the time? His worst fucking nightmare, so yeah, Jason had to get this problem under control.

He had tried healthier coping mechanisms at first, but none of them worked. He couldn't find a single one that quenched the fire within him; the only thing that satisfied it was the spilling of blood. Obviously, he couldn't take it out on evil sons of bitches anymore now that he was on the Bats' radar, and he wasn't about to become a monster by hurting innocents. That left one person: himself. He wasn't unfamiliar to the world of self harm; he had dabbled enough when he was younger after the passing of Catherine Todd. This felt different somehow. It wasn't because he was trying to fill the void left by his parents but to stop himself from committing actual murder. It was as though he was building a wall between the new Red Hood, one that the Bats may someday approve of, and his old, pit raged self.

Jason grew quite a tolerance to it overtime. At the beginning, perhaps only a few slashes would be necessary to sufficiently beat back the anger the Lazarus Pit left him with, but soon enough, he started needing it more and more. Where those slashes used to last him three days, soon they only lasted him two, then one, then not even that. Eventually, he had to start carving deeper and deeper into his skin to get any sense of relief, and those effects also faded too quickly. Due to this, he started doing more cuts that were deeper than ever before multiple times a day. The Lazarus Pit had given him accelerated healing, so no one ever noticed (not that he thought they would care). Oftentimes, his nightmares would leave him seething with rage and make him see green, so bleeding was usually the first thing he did in the morning. He'd also bleed if someone irritated him or if his siblings said something stupid (which was always) or even if it fucking rained when he wanted to go out.

And then one time, it didn't work at all. He had rolled his sleeves up at nighttime after hearing some dumbass politician talk shit about Crime Alley and set to work. His arms were soon covered in deep, deep cuts, but his vision was still clouded in green. He knew that they would close and heal over before any release could be found, and that was when he knew that he had reached his limit. It wasn't the first time he had thought about killing himself, and it wasn't the first time he had taken action over those thoughts. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he died. No matter what he did to himself, he knew that the other Bats wouldn't notice. They never did. If his siblings hadn't noticed that their own father had slit his throat in public, why would they notice the things he did in the privacy of his own home?

The decision to kill himself had been made quickly. He had already accepted long ago when his tolerance started to build up that some day it just wouldn't work anymore, and when that day came, he would have to either take himself out or see himself become the person he knew his family hated all over again. It wasn't like he was about to condemn himself to Arkham Asylum anyway.

He was already bleeding heavily enough to be lethal for a normal person, but he had to ensure that the Lazarus Pit's effects would be slowed.

The bath water had been warm when he got in. He hadn't bothered taking his clothes off; that shit would take too long. With any luck, no one would find him until it was too late. By the time they did, he would probably already be at least partially decomposed. He couldn't help but think in his anger that they deserved to deal with the decaying mess that they would find. He hoped they would find all sorts of flies and maggots picking at the greasy mess of tissues and fluids that would be just sitting in a pool of water. Human soup, anyone?

The green in his vision was replaced with black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are welcome, appreciated, and motivate me to continue my works! :)
> 
> All right sorry again for the decomp talk....what an awkward last thought to have


	5. The Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

_Beep...._

_Beep...._

_Beep..._

Jason frowned. Last time he had died, it had been silent, quiet beyond all measures. There had been nothing but a big, black void.

This was not a big, black void.

Why? What had he done wrong? Surely, he had enough experience in killing people that he wouldn't fuck up his own suicide.

And he felt things too. There was a paper like material around him and soft fabric underneath of him. He was dry, so unlike the bathtub he had laid in to wait for the inevitable.

He supposed it wasn't inevitable if the void wasn't calling for him at that time. It was more....evitable.

_Fuck._

He wasn't dead at all. Someone had found him, moved him away from his safe house, and fixed him. Jason couldn't believe the audacity whoever did that possessed. How dare they? Wasn't it obvious that he was acting in everyone's best interests? His death was for the greater good.

No one was supposed to be in his safe house. He hadn't invited anyone, so someone must have broken in. If they also managed to get to him and transport the both of them to a secondary location, whoever it was had successfully evaded all of Jason's fun little traps.

Refusing to open his eyes, he growled a bit out of frustration. He should have just shot himself. It would have been quicker, more permanent. No one would have been able to save him if his brains painted the walls and the ceiling.

"Little Wing?" Jason heard his older brother's voice speak carefully. "Are you awake?"

_Yeah, no shit._

Had the Bats found him?

_Fuck._

He didn't respond to Dick's inquiry, instead choosing to squeeze his eyelids shut. He wouldn't be able to see the green if they were closed. Turning a little, he made note of the tight restraints they had used, effectively tying him to the bed. They were on his arms, his legs, everything. He forced his eyes not to dramatically roll. Of course they would do that. The Bats didn't trust him not to kill any of their precious vigilantes now, did they? They didn't trust him at all.

"I know you're awake." Dick continued. "You can go back to sleep for now; you must be tired."

_Fuck off._

_Leave._

_Don't talk to me._

"The others should be waking up soon." He seemed aware that Jason was listening. "They're really freaked out, you know. I could barely get them to sleep."

_I don't give a shit._

"Tim was the one to find you. You scared him bad. You scared all of us bad."

_And why do you give a shit?_

He was doing what was best for Gotham. If he couldn't control his pit rage, he would become just as bad as he used to be. They would hate him more than they already do. He had to control the pit rage before it controlled him.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it, Jay, but what happened?"

_Hell no._

He wasn't about to talk about that. He wasn't going to respond to a single goddamn word that came out of that idiot's mouth. As soon as he opened his eyes, he would see Dick and whatever else was nearby clouded in a sick, sick green, and then, he would be compelled to kill.

They didn't deserve that. They helped people.

_Except me._

At the same time, maybe they did deserve it. They refused to let the threat die out. All the Bats knew just how dangerous Jason could be, and they still didn't let him die. He even gave them all an opportunity to keep their hands clean! They wouldn't have needed to do any sort of dirty work. They just had to avoid interfering.

So why did they interfere? 

He heard the familiar creaking of the stairs leading to the Batcave. They were relatively heavy, so whoever was coming was not someone like Damian or Tim.

"Dick." He heard the Bat himself greet his eldest son.

Because of course it had to be Bruce.

How could he even pretend that he didn't want Red Hood dead? Batman had beaten Jason up multiple times, even throwing a batarang at his exposed neck once. Why would he then try to stop him from dying?

It was probably just from his intense feelings of moral superiority. To Bruce, everything was black and white, but Jason preferred to reside within the shades of gray. His adoptive father hated that about him.

"Hey, B. He's awake, but he won't talk."

_Traitor._

"You should go get some sleep."

"But-"

"You've been awake entirely too long." He could practically hear the stern face that Bruce definitely was wearing. "I will wake you if anything happens."

"You better." Dick paused for a moment; then, Jason heard him slowly trudge up the stairs.

Bruce sat down in the now empty seat. "Hey, Jaylad."

_Don't call me that._

"I wish we were meeting for different reasons right now."

_Yeah, well I wish I was doing the Rasputin dance from the Just Dance Wii game in the afterlife. Stupid bitch._

"I'm glad you're still with us. I....don't know what I would do if I lost you again."

_You'd make a matching memorial to go with the other one. You'd start a fucking collection._

"And I know that I am far from an easy person to talk to..."

_No shit._

"But I want you to know that you can if you'd like."

_Error 404: Page not Found._

"Or I can connect you with someone else to speak to."

_I swear to fuck, if he sends me to therapy...._

"I'm sure your siblings would welcome you if you wanted to do something with them."

_Fucking fat chance. The only time Dick went out of his way to visit me this month was because he wanted food. (Alfred had given him a brutal scolding on his cereal-eating habits, and Jason had been making pasta.)_

"We're all glad you're still with us, Jason."

_Well, I'm not, so if you'd kindly let me Naruto run off a cliff, that'd be great._

"I knew you used to do this when you were young, when you were still Robin, but I didn't think-"

_Shocker._

"- that this would happen at all. I thought you had stopped doing that to yourself."

Jason felt an IV sticking out of his arm. He wanted to rip it out and stab his adoptive father with it. Who was he to speak about this subject? He knew nothing about him, nothing at all. He had no authority, no credibility on Jason's case.

He couldn't kill someone else though. Maybe if he waited for everyone to leave him along, he could find a way to end it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated!


	6. Make it Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason remains in the medbay. Tim visits him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

Jason was in hell. Literal hell. The Bats hadn't removed any of his restraints even after determining that he was in fact conscious. They thought that he would try something, that he would threaten them or even attack them. They didn't trust him at all; they kept him tethered to the bed in the medical wing of the Batcave like some sort of animal. Perhaps that's all they saw in him? After being soaked in the Lazarus Pit, he had had all sorts of new instincts developing due to his unchecked anger problems.

Bruce left him soon after their one-sided conversation because of course he did. His adoptive father always left at the first sign of an emotional encounter and always abandoned him for something else. Jason wasn't too sure what the old man had decided to do instead, but he didn't really care anyway.

Tim had darted down the stairs almost immediately after he woke up. His hair was a mess, having not bothered to brush it, and he had not changed out of his pajamas. HIs speed diminished, however, as he got closer; in fact, he came to a halt about five feet away from the bed, deciding instead to just stand there and stare. It was creepy, almost as though his eyes were looking straight into Jason's soul.

He shook that off quickly though. He hated it here. It was making him mad, no, furious. What the fuck did the Bats think they were going to do with him? Were they just waiting for his injuries to heal enough to send him packing into Arkham? He didn't even hurt anyone this time.

Jason longed for the freedom he once had. Talia wouldn't have strapped him down like this. She may have cuffed him for a while, but she had never done anything so extreme when it got hard. At the same time, she had never slit his throat, try to kill him, lock him in Arkham......yeah. The most she ever did was play with his emotions a bit and manipulate him into doing things he would rather not have done, but most of the things she did were with his best interests in mind. Sure, she tossed him in the Lazarus Pit, but that was purely out of necessity. She had been doing him a _favor._ Without it, he would still have been a no one, a catatonic short-stack who was basically useless in any regard. 

Tim still didn't speak, but at least he moved from where he was standing. The annoying fucker hadn't stopped staring at him, now sitting in a chair next to him. Jason side-eyed him.

_Go away._

Tim didn't seem to be getting the memo.

_Your stupid face is pissing me off._

Eventually, Tim cleared his throat, almost as though he were about to say something.

_Fuck, here we go._

"I was the one who found you, you know." He wet his lips and looked away a bit. "I don't know if you know that."

_I do; now, get to the point._

For some reason, Tim didn't seem to hear the messages Jason was trying his hardest to send telepathically.

"I knew something was off immediately. Your lights were on."

Jason scowled. If he had done something as simple as flicking that damn switch off, maybe this wouldn't be fucking happening right now. Tim wouldn't have started searching for him so quickly, and by the time he would notice, if he ever would have, he would have been long gone.

_Damn._

He pulled at the restraints a little, testing them out, as the green fog slowly reentered his vision. He hated that feeling, the utter lack of control that he had over it. At this point, anything would set it off, and it would stay until he found some way to alleviate the bloodlust. His right arm had an IV sticking out of it, and his left arm was tied down slightly looser than the other. That was definitely something he could work with.

He had to use it to stab _himself_ , not Tim. The Bats wouldn't forgive him if he hurt Tim again; they'd send him straight to Arkham to let them deal with him. But at the same time, it would probably be easier to successfully kill himself in Arkham. The other inmates wouldn't give two shits if he did it, and honestly, neither would the guards. But would he risk going so close to his childhood nightmare once more? Perhaps that was what he deserved. If he couldn't even kill himself right, the Joker definitely could. He had already succeeded once before.

At the same time, he didn't want to hear that laugh. Call him selfish, but he wanted his last moments to be more peaceful than that.

Jason had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized that Tim was still talking. His eyes refocused on his little brother.

"Dick came over soon after, you know, since I needed backup. I didn't have any medical supplies on me...." He trailed off. "I didn't think I would need them, but I still shouldn't have been so underprepared."

_And now, you've made him feel guilty. Congratulations, Jason, you're a monster._

"Some of your gear may have been damaged by the water you were in." Tim frowned a bit. "I haven't checked them out yet, but you won't need them for a while anyway."

_Ah, fuck, I can't believe you've done this._

Were they really going to be watching him that closely? Maybe if he pissed them off enough they'd leave him alone. The green became darker as he thought more about it. What right did they have to take his shit away from him? It didn't belong to Bruce or Dick or any of them.

_How dare?_

Tim, meanwhile, had continued speaking. "We didn't run into any of your neighbors while we were transporting you to the Batmobile."

_Yeah, because they are all smart enough to duck and cover when a Bat is nearby. They probably thought I was being arrested and didn't want them to think that they were also involved._

Thankfully, his restraints were underneath a sheet, making it easy to hide what he was doing from the Replacement. He didn't know why they hadn't secured the left restraint as tight as it should be; really, it was a rookie's error. Regardless, he was going to take advantage of their incompetence.

Tim wasn't even sitting too far away...

_What are you doing what are you doing whatareyoudoingwhatareyoudoingwhatareyoudoingstopstopstopstop_

_No._

If they were going to be taking away the one thing pushing the pit to the back of his mind, they were going to have to deal with the results.

Tim kept on trailing off, kept on staring into nothing. He was still in shock from finding his almost-cadaver, probably. Jason is surprised that he functioned enough to actually save him; he wish he didn't.

His younger brother hadn't looked away from a random spot on the floor for ten seconds, and Jason suddenly became a blur of action. His now-free left arm ripped the IV out of his hand, ignoring the blood and fluids now staining the sheets, grabbed his brother, and pinned him with his arm.

_nononononoNONONONO_

The needle of the IV was now dripping dangerously close to his exposed jugular.

_STOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPIT_

_BRUCE MAKE IT STOP PLEASE MAKE IT STOP_

_BRUCE WHERE ARE YOU WHERE ARE YOU WHERE ARE YOUWHEREAREYOUWHEREAREYOU_

Tim slowly turned his head up to Jason's face, taking in his eyes. He had expected to see a bluish color, but it was only green that reflected back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated!


	7. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason leaves the Batcave

"Jason? It's me, Tim." His voice was shaky as he eyed his brother's Lazarus green gaze. "I'm not going to hurt you."

_I don't want to hurt you._

_What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing_

"Shut up." He pressed the needle tighter against his throat. "Undo the restraints."

His eyes fell on the three remaining and functional restraints. Tim knew Jason well enough to know that he could get out of them, but he wouldn't be able to do so undetected. "Jason, I can't do that. Someone's going to get hurt."

_SHUT YOUR BITCH ASS MOUTH_

"Well, Replacement, you're going to get hurt if you don't do it." Jason grinned. "And I think you know better than to shout for help right now."

"You're not thinking clearly."

_WHERE IS MY DAD I WANT MY DAD PLEASE_

"Get this off of me now."

Tim snorted a bit. "And you wouldn't kill me afterwards?"

_NonononoIDONTWANTTOKILLYOU_

"Timmy," he shook his head with the same smile on his face. "I'm not _that_ predictable."

His younger brother looked down at the needle at his neck. "I can go get you some actual clothing now that you're awake." He mentioned. "Wouldn't that feel better?"

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until I'm heading out of this shithole." Jason growled. "Do you think I'm an idiot? You would go tell everyone else what I was doing."

_PLEASE GO TELL THE OTHERS WHAT I AM DOING_

After a few moments of silence, the big bad Red Hood adjusted his grip on Tim, allowing him to shove the thumb of his restrained arm into the cuff, and then, he yanked at it with all his strength. Just as he expected, it dislocated itself from the joint. Jason winced a bit as he pulled the hand out of the restraints.

_You deserve this pain._

Tim's eyes widened as he saw the other hand free. He went to open his mouth, but Jason's new free hand clamped tightly over it.

He beamed at his brother. "I have two hands now, see? And that means that you really, _really_ don't want to start fucking with me now."

"I was so scared when I found you." He admitted to the elder. "There was so much blood, and I didn't think we'd be able to save you."

"You shouldn't have even bothered, Replacement." Jason glared at him. "The dead are not meant to live again."

Tim looked so heartbroken that it almost crushed his spirit. "But you are alive, and that's the most amazing thing-"

He blacked out. It was most definitely not an amazing thing that he was still alive. Hell, it wasn't even good. Jason had had no intentions of waking up after carving up his forearms and wrists and thighs and calves. All he knew was that the clock was ticking. The longer he took, the more likely it was that some other bat would stumble upon this altercation, and Jason didn't want to deal with that shit at the moment.

_You could just kill him and get it over with._

_NONONODONTKILLTIMMY_

_It would be so fucking easy. You're already set up and everything._

_IDONTWANTTOIDONTNEEDTO_

_Leave no witnesses._

_WHERETHEFUCKINGHELLIS **BRUCE**_

By the time he managed to bring himself back to reality, he had left the Batcave entirely. Jason frowned in disgust; he always hated having gaps in his memory. Now, he was speeding towards Gotham in his spare Red Hood gear on his motorcycle. He couldn't help but think about how easy it would be to crash his bike right then and there. It would probably kill him quickly.

_What happened to my brother?_

Dick woke up to someone spamming his phone. He groaned batting at it, but soon enough, the events of the previous day came back to him. He sat up ramrod straight instantly. Someone could be calling him about Jason.

He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

_"DICK! Good, it's Roy. I need help finding Jason. I went to his safehouse earlier today, but he was no where to be found. His bathtub is full of blood, Dick. It looks like whoever did this dragged him out through the front door leading to the hallway of the complex."_

Dick processed his friend's speedy words for a second. "Oh..."

_"Will you help me find him? Dick?"_

"Roy, you better stop by the manor."

_"Why? Dick, what's going on?"_

"No one attacked Jason. There was no drugs in his system either, and it was Tim who found him."

_"What the fuck are you trying to say to me?"_

"Jason tried to kill himself." He blurted out all at once, trying not to sob audibly enough for Roy to hear.

There was a few moments of silence, and then, the line went dead. Roy had hung up. Dick knew that he was now speeding towards Wayne manor; after all, he and Jason had been getting pretty close recently.

His phone beeped again a few moments later, but this time, it was not from Roy. It was a text from Bruce in the family group chat.

_Batcave. Now. Jason's gone. Tim's unconscious._

Well, fuck.


	8. The Fugitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd is on the run.

Jason wasn't an idiot, no matter what the other Bats thought. His head wasn't broken; his thoughts were coherent. He knew that they would start looking for him as soon as they noticed that he had gone missing, so naturally, he had to go off of the radar quickly.

Call him picky, but he had always wanted to meet his second end in Gotham. It felt more like home than that fucking warehouse had, but in order to do so, he would have to go somewhere where he would not be found so easily. The Bats would try to track him, but he had nothing on him that would give away his location so easily. They would check his safe houses, but he wasn't stupid enough to try that again. Whatever he was going to do, he would have to do it fast.

Maybe he could get Roy to help? Roy didn't know anything about his plan, and he hadn't been in the cave. He was safe.

Still, guilt ate at him. He didn't want to use Roy for his own selfish ends, and Jason knew that his partner would never forgive himself if something had happened while they were close to each other. This was a serious problem though. Red Hood couldn't keep going on as he was, not without becoming a villain that the Bats would despise once again. He had to take care of this quickly before anything like that could happen; they didn't need to know the extent to which he tried to be a better person for them, all for them.

He found it hard to think. All he knew was the thick, green fog clouding his brain and his vision and the deep, deep voice inside of him telling him to _hurt, maim, and kill._

Jason shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but they were not his to clear. No, he had never wanted these thoughts, and they never felt like they were _his._ They were that of the Lazarus Pit.

He knew where most of the cameras that Barbara used were, but they were not easy to avoid all the time. It would be better if he went somewhere off the grid, perhaps even underground.

...but he still needed Roy. Roy was safe; he wouldn't betray him to the Bats. He was on his team, his side.

Jason ditched his motorbike in a few shrubs just outside of Gotham. He ripped off his body armor, his helmet and covered every recognizable feature he had. If he played this right, Barbara might just assume he was a random citizen walking around; there were enough of those milling about at this time of day. He kept most of his weapons though, specifically the ones that were well hidden. He'd need those.

He'd have to find a payphone somewhere; he had abandoned his cell phone at the Batcave. Roy would pick up anyway. The archer always seemed to know which calls were important and which were not. 

* * *

"Tim? Can you hear me?"

He blinked slowly, wincing against the bright lights that seemed to shine straight into his eyes. His memory was foggy; how the hell had he ended up in medbay this time?

"There you go." The image of his brother Dick appeared as his eyes came into focus. "Hey, Tim."

"Dick?" His voice wasn't hoarse at all. Whatever had happened, he hadn't been screaming much at all. 

There were other people around him too: Bruce, Stephanie, Cass, Alfred, and even Damian. The youngest looked at him with more disdain than usual, so he probably didn't approve of what happened.

"What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us." Dick sighed.

"You let Todd escape." Damian scowled at him.

Jason? Escape? He wasn't sure why they were holding the second Robin captive at the moment, but that could have something to do with the killer headache he was currently nursing. 

"You were watching him." Bruce prompted. "To make sure he didn't try anything."

It all came rushing back to him. He saw the blood staining the white tiles of his brother's safe house, the slick, wet feeling of Jason's mutilated arms against his inadequate paper towels. He remembered wondering why the hell his brother would try to kill himself after becoming part of the family again. There weren't always clear signs that someone was suicidal, but he would've noticed _something,_ right?

He also recalled the fear and the panic that overwhelmed him when his older brother ripped his IV out and threatened him with it. Jason had proceeded to free his second hand by dislocating his thumb, and then...then....everything went to shit.

"I didn't mean to let him go." Tim looked down. They had trusted him to keep Jason safe; how could he fail so miserably at that?

"We know." Cass brushed her hand against the side of his head.

Tim's right eye throbbed and was almost swollen shut, and he knew that his face probably looked like a painting of blue, purple, and black bruises. The rest of his body ached as well, but to the best of his knowledge, the attack was focused mainly on the more vulnerable regions of his body: his head, neck, spine, abdomen, and all.

"I don't know how he got the first hand out." He started. "I was just talking to him, and he just came at me with the IV needle." There was a moment of silence. "He held it up to my jugular."

There was another voice from the other side of the room. "He tried to kill you?" Tim turned his head, but it was just Roy. He wasn't too surprised by that; in fact, he had been wondering when the archer would show up.

"I don't think he wanted to." He rubbed his neck and winced.

"Well, your jugular looks fine now." Stephanie raised one of her eyebrows. "Your head does not."

Alfred had a few of the others back up a bit. "What happened next, Master Tim?"

"He dislocated his thumb and freed his other hand." He bit his lip. "He used that hand to cover my airways."

Damian scoffed. "You let him get out."

"Brother." Cass shook her head. "He had no choice."

"Of course he had a choice!" His voice grew louder. "He chose to let Todd go."

Tim was growing furious. "Since when did you care what Jason did?"

"Stop it!" Dick forced his way in between the two of them, and he breathed deeply. "Tim, what happened next?"

"He clawed at his ankles to free them. Both of them were bleeding after he got them out." He reported, still glaring at his younger brother. 

Damian made a noise of frustration. "So he let you go, Drake?"

"What?"

"In order to get the ankle restraints off he must have had free hands."

"Well, yes, but-"

"You didn't do anything to stop him!"

Bruce clamped a strong hand on his youngest son's shoulder. "Damian, why don't you step away for a few moments?" He flashed a look to Alfred, who nodded solemnly and led the protesting child away.

"I'm sorry." Tim squeezed his eyes shut. "I tried to stop him, I really did, but when he finally let go, I was so concentrated on getting _air_ into my lungs that-"

"No one blames you, Tim." Dick comforted.

"But Damian-"

"-is confused." He finished for him. "He's upset, Tim; we're all under a lot of stress right now."

Roy walked over to him quickly. "What next?"

"He attacked me. I don't think he wanted to kill me, but it felt like he was trying to."

Stephanie frowned. "Why would he try to kill you if he didn't want to?"

"I don't know!" Tim threw his hands in the air, ignoring the throbbing of his head. "He came at me quickly, and...I didn't want to hurt him."

"Do you know where he went?" Roy inquired.

He shook his head, looking down. He heard Roy sigh in disappointment and tried not to take it too personally. Damian was right; he could've gotten Jason to stay somehow, maybe if he tried a different approach or just plain alerted someone.

"He took his spare gear and his bike." Bruce said.

The archer frowned. "He'll abandon those quickly, go into hiding. He's not going to want you to find him."

"You think he'll leave Gotham?" Dick asked.

"Not if he's planning on dying." He groaned. "He always said that he wanted to be somewhere familiar next time he, you know, passes."

"Babs is looking for him right now." Stephanie mentioned. "She hasn't found him yet."

"Maybe he went to one of his safe houses." Tim honestly had no idea.

Cass shook her head. "No, too obvious."

"You're right."

"Maybe we should alert the GCPD? Have some more eyes looking for him?" Dick suggested, which confirmed for Roy that his old friend had absolutely no idea how to proceed.

He didn't agree. "The GCPD doesn't like Jason, and Jason doesn't like them."

"We need to find him, Roy."

"Then, we go and find him! They'll arrest him if they find him, and that'll end badly!"

Bruce turned to look at his son. "He's right. I want everyone looking for him."


	9. Jason?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bats go looking

_Where is he? Where the fuck is he?_

Roy was frantic, leaping from building to building in Crime Alley. He had checked every location that he expected to find his partner, and they were all empty. The apartment that he used to live in as a child with Catherine and Willis Todd didn't even exist anymore, but by hell, he searched there anyway. His favorite gargoyle was also notably alone.

He shouldn't have left Jason when he did, and he had found it suspicious when his boyfriend suddenly started encouraging him to speak to Oliver or Dinah again. Normally, Jason wanted to keep him close. Roy should have known that something was about to happen. Even if he hadn't decided to kill himself at that point, Jason must have known that things where going downhill for him mentally.

Roy hadn't known about all his scars. Jason had been very...shy around him, and he rarely even took his shirt off. He should have seen the signs. During the time he spent in rehab, several people who did self harm religiously covered their bodies with clothes, long sleeves and long pants even on the hottest of summer days. Jason did the same, but for some reason, Roy had been blind to it. He hadn't been able to believe his ears when Dick explained the violent scars, all of varying ages, that they found underneath the layers of clothes he wore.

Fuck, he needed to find his Jaybird.

His comms activated, and he heard Bruce's voice come through. "Does anyone have eyes on Hood yet?"

"No." Roy shook his head as the other Bats chorused with "Negative," or "Nothing."

"Keep looking." Bruce ordered. "No one goes home until we find him."

 _Thank God._ Roy didn't know why, but beforehand, he had doubted how many fucks Bruce actually gave. Obviously, there would come a point where they would have to stop and sleep if they did not find Jason, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

And they would find Jason before then. He'd make sure of it.

Dick's voice came through the comms next. "I don't think Hood's in Crime Alley or the Narrows."

"He has to be." Roy responded quickly. "He has always wanted to die somewhere familiar, somewhere that felt like _home._ "

"We've looked everywhere, Arsenal." His long time friend responded. "There is no where else he could be."

He bit his lip. "Red Hood knows how to stay hidden. He'll be here."

Stephanie was the one to speak next. "Should more of us leave Crime Alley? Just in case he isn't here..."

 _No!_ Jason was in Crime Alley. He _had_ to be here. There was no where else he could see Jason going, and honestly, there was no way he was wrong.

"Don't." His voice cracked a bit, and he fell silent immediately, trying to school his emotions.

"Spoiler, take Robin and head towards the business end." Bruce spoke up again after being silent for a long while.

Roy wanted to strangle Bruce. "Come on, Batman. Why the fuck would _Red Hood_ go to the business district? That is just about the farthest thing from his territory as possible."

"He might have gone there if he didn't want anyone finding him." Dick offered. "We wouldn't have thought to look there."

"He'd stick out like a sore thumb!" He seethed. "If you didn't notice, he wasn't wearing a fucking suit and tie!"

"Batman." Barbara finally spoke up. "I have eyes all over the business district. There is no sign of Hood."

Roy could hear Bruce sigh over the comms. Hopefully, Barbara's words would convince Bruce to not make probably one of the stupidest decisions of his life. Jason was _suicidal_ , and every choice he made had potentially life threatening consequences. Jason wasn't with the rich people. Sending the Bats to look for him there would decrease the chances of finding him, and that was dangerous in his condition and mindset.

"Has anyone checked Amusement Mile?" Bruce offered weakly.

Roy scoffed. "Yeah, because _that_ is where Red Hood would go. Amusement Mile. Where all the psychotic clowns hang out."

"Arsenal has a point, Batman." Damian used the comms for the first time that night. "You will not find him there."

He tuned the other Bats out, knowing that none of them were making any progress. It almost seemed as though Bruce was stalling, but he knew that the older man was just very, very confused and desperate. What they were doing was a waste of time, and every second that went by increased the stress on Roy's nerves.

His phone, the one he used solely as Arsenal, started buzzing. His eyes flicked downwards, and he turned it on. Only people close to him knew this number, and it was virtually salesperson-proof. While he didn't recognize the incoming number, Roy knew that it just had to be important.

"Hello?" He looked around, making sure that no one was eavesdropping on his conversation.

_"Roy?"_

Roy's eyes widened, and he clutched his phone tighter. "Jason? Is that you? Where are you?"

_"I....I need your help."_

"With what?" He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. "Where are you?"

_"They weren't supposed to find me."_

"Babe, please." Roy sniffed a bit. "Let me find you."

_"Will you help me do what I need to do?"_

The archer hesitated. "What do you need to do?"

_"I can't keep the pit back anymore. It isn't safe letting me live."_

"So you want me...to help you kill yourself? Jason, please, come back. You don't need to die."

_"But...I do. Roy, I can't keep doing this."_

"Yes, you can! And I'll be there right next to you the whole time." Roy begged. "Tell me where you are. Please."

_"The pit rage never really went away, Roy. I found a way to redirect it to myself, but that just isn't working anymore."_

His eyes widened in realization. "All those cuts. You were self harming to satisfy the pit rage."

_"And it isn't working anymore, Roy, you see? I have to do this."_

"No, you don't. We can figure something else out." The archer shook his head furiously. "Please don't leave me."

_"I can't stay."_

He squeezed his eyes shut due to his pain. "Jaybird, please."

_"I wasn't supposed to come back in the first place. The dead are supposed to stay dead."_

"Can I go with you?"

_"No! They need you. You're a good man. I'm....not."_

Roy sighed. "But you are so, so _good_ , Jason, and you don't even see it."

_"I'm not."_

There was a moment of silence as Roy waited for his partner to continue. For a brief moment, he was afraid that Jason was just going to hang up, but thankfully, he spoke up again. 

_"Go to that place I showed you. You know the one."_

The line fell dead.


	10. In the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy finds Jason

It was dark where he was, too dark. He couldn't see anything in front of him at all, not even his own hand right in front of his face. Jason hated the dark, hated the way the shadows loomed over him, but it was a necessary evil at this point. There was little light at all, the only source being from the green glow of his Lazarus-fueled eyes. He briefly wished that he had thought to bring sunglasses to cover them up.

It was almost silent as well, the only sounds coming from the dripping of water and the heartbeat he could hear in his ears. If only he was someone else, if only he was not Jason Todd, then, perhaps this wouldn't be happening. He was supposed to be dead. The dead do not come back to life, so he was an unnatural being. He had to fix the _wrongness_ that was himself, and on top of all that, he had to deal with the whispers of the Pit yet again.

He knew that the Bats would be looking for him by now. Tim must've woken up, and if no one had noticed his body laying prone on the floor, he definitely would have alerted the others to his disappearance. Great. Just what he wanted: a bunch of idiots in capes scouring Gotham looking for him. He snorted. They wouldn't find him.

**_They're looking for you._ **

_Yeah, no shit._

**_They want to_ control _you, to have you under their thumb. Permanently._**

_No, the only reason they were looking for me was their morals. They knew what I wanted to do, and to them, it was their responsibility to save the lives of as many people as possible._

**_They'll just throw you in Arkham. Lock you up and forget the key._ **

_Yeah, shut the fuck up. At least it would be easier to die there, right? All I would have to do was...naruto run or something straight into some psycho's cell. That'd end nicely. It isn't like those guards would stop me either; they are all mostly incompetent anyway._

**_But it would hurt anyway._ **

_Suck it up, bro. Everything hurts all the time._

**_It would hurt_ more _._**

_Bitch, I'm already dead inside. What more could they do?_

**_They could make you feel...feelings._ **

_Disgusting._

**_And maybe....maybe you're feeling a little selfish, yeah? Maybe you want to live._ **

_It is my duty to die._

**_But do you want to?_ **

_Not everyone wants to live. I am one of those people._

**_You would rather be accepted by them, be free of me._ **

_Anyone would want to be free of you. You're a creepy ass motherfucker._

_**Deep down, you still want your Bat Dad back.** _

_What sort of nickname is that? Come on, you can be more creative._

**_Bat Daddy._ **

_.....No._

**_We both know you don't actually want to do this, not right now._ **

_You're right. I'm going to see Roy first._

**_Will you be able to follow through after you see him?_ **

_Of course, I will._

**_Think about what killing yourself would_ _do to him. A bit selfish in my opinion, yeah?_**

_Okay, you were calling me selfish for not killing myself earlier, and now, I'm selfish for doing it? Get your fucking facts straight, bitch._

**_Well, maybe that's just you. You're selfish, no matter what you do, what you say._ **

_I mean, fair._

He glanced up at the roof. Well, it wasn't really a roof. He was in the pipes, the underground network that was notably free from Barbara's prying eyes, so it was a perfect place to lie low for a while. Soon enough, either Roy would come, or the Bats would give up their search. Jason didn't expect it to take long. He had never been Bruce's favorite or anything; Bruce hardly even saw him as _his_.

Not that he was Bruce's or anything. No, that ship sailed long ago.

_**And whose fault is that?** _

_Shut the fuck up._

There was a slight knocking sound on the manhole above him. It beat in a rhythm, three fast and two slow. Jason let himself smile a bit. _Roy._ Slowly, it was lifted, spilling some light down into the pipes, and Roy dropped down immediately, replacing the manhole afterwards. If he hadn't knocked, Jason probably would have shot him, thinking he was someone else. Luckily, his partner had had the forethought to bring a flashlight, which he set up a few feet away from them.

"Jaybird." Roy sighed in relief at finally seeing his partner after what felt like millennia.

He rushed to Jason, bringing his partner in to a rib-crushing hug. Jason nearly melted in his embrace. Was this what he was leaving? Could he do it?

...No, he had to.

Suddenly, Roy stepped back, frowned, and punched him in the shoulder. "What were you thinking?"

"I think that's obvious." Jason grinned dryly.

_**He hit you. He's a threat.** _

_Nah, bro._

"You can't leave me, Jay. Please don't leave."

"I can't stay."

Roy shook his head furiously. "No, we can help you."

"They'll just throw me in Arkham. That's not exactly 'helping.'" Jason ran a hand through his hair, frowning.

_**If they threaten you with Arkham, you should take them out.** _

"They wouldn't."

"Want to bet?"

Roy bit his lip. "Listen, Jason, they know you're not that type of guy, not anymore."

_**You could easily become him again. Didn't it feel good? You were finally** _ **worth _something._**

_Go away._

"I don't have a choice anymore about what 'type of guy' I am." He groaned in frustration. "I tried, Roy. I tried so hard to be _good_ , but it's so loud now."

_**Then, why aren't you listening to me?** _

_LA LA LA LA LA LA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU!_

"You are not beyond help, Jay." Roy pulled his partner into yet another hug, gripping him as though he expected Jason to disappear at any second.

Jason like it. It was nice to know that someone cared even though they knew about his...problems controlling the pit rage yet again. "I didn't do anything else after Tim; I swear."

"You tried to kill yourself. I think that counts as something."

"I didn't do anything _to anyone else._ " He corrected. "That's what matters, right? They were never mad at me for hurting myself."

Roy shook his head. "I don't think they knew, Jaybird."

"I thought it was obvious."

"I didn't know about it."

Jason pulled back slightly, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion. "You didn't?"

How could he not have noticed? Sure, Jason wore a lot of turtlenecks and long pants, but it was pretty obvious, right? Those clothes were just to prevent strangers, people who would judge him, from noticing.

"No." Roy looked down. "I should've; I didn't."

"Oh." He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Well, that doesn't matter. They're mad at me about hurting Timmy."

Jason flinched slightly at his own thoughts. Timmy was gasping for air when he had attacked him. Did he have a concussion? What was his status?

_**Why do you care? He was your warden in a prison you escaped from.** _

The archer bit his lip. "I don't know about that. They didn't seem too mad."

"I _hurt_ him, and now, they're coming to put me in _Arkham_."

"Again, you're not going to Arkham."

"Why wouldn't they be mad? I hurt Timmy."

Roy rubbed his thumb across his partner's cheek. "They saw a desperate man."

"I'm not desperate." He scoffed. "I'm just doing what needs to be done, but _they_ keep getting in my way."

He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe that's because this doesn't need to be done."

"It does!"

"Why?"

"I'm dangerous." Jason stared at him.

Shouldn't this be obvious? Roy must have seen what he had done to Tim. Everyone saw. It was worse before he discovered his little habit to keep the pit away. There was already blood on his hands, so how could Roy seemingly forget about all of that?

"All of us are dangerous. We all know how to kill."

"But I'm the only one who does it."

"Not anymore."

"It's coming. If I don't stop it, it'll all come back, and I'm not fucking dealing with that again."

Roy pulled him closer again. "Is there anything else that helps?"

"No. I tried everything."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty goddamn sure, yeah." Jason paused.

"It can't be going at full throttle all the time." He said. "These things always have their hills and valleys."

"...It's worse when I'm alone."

Roy's eyes brightened, and he moved to stare into the glowing green gaze of his partner. "So, it's gotten better since I've been here?"

"It's quieter, yes." Jason blinked a few times. "It's barely spoken since you've been here."

"So why did you run off to be by yourself?"

He laughed a little. "I can hardly be around someone all the time. The risk is too high."

"Listen, Jaybird." Roy squeezed Jason's hand. "We could go back."

"It's too late. I've already hurt Tim."

"They already know that your state of mind right now is...not good, and if they try to kick you out, I will shoot their dicks off." Roy held up his bow proudly.

Jason shook his head. "I don't know."

"They're tearing up Crime Alley and the Narrows just to find you. Bruce said that no one goes home until you do." He paused. "They love you, Jason. Not as much as I do, obviously, cause no one can top that, but they do."

"But I hurt Tim." He wanted to wail, but he wouldn't be that pathetic.

Tim was his baby brother, and he had hurt him on purpose. Sure, the Pit had been whispering sweet nothings into his head, but that was no excuse. It was a premeditated attack. He didn't kill Tim, but damn, that was only due to his learned self-restraint. The Pit had wanted him dead.

"On the way back, we can get him a present, yeah?" Roy suggested. "What sort of things does he like?"

"Coffee. Caffeine. Not sleep." He deadpanned. Of course, Tim liked other things, but his life seemed to revolve around the bean juice.

The archer grinned. "We could get him a mug."

Jason paused. "It has to be a good one."

"Of course."


	11. Reluctance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy drags Jason back where he belongs

It didn't take long for Roy to drag him to the nearest store in his search for a present for Tim. Would Tim even accept it? What if he hated Jason now? After all, he had already tried to kill Tim before, so maybe this was the last straw before Jason was completely cast out. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it.

If he had gotten his way, he wouldn't have to, but here he was, letting himself be dragged along by his concerned partner. It seemed like that was all he did nowadays: make people concerned. He wished he wouldn't, but he also felt that there was an easy solution to this problem too. If he wasn't around anymore, it wasn't exactly like there would be anyone to be concerned about. No, they might be sad for a few days, but the Bats would move on quickly. Even Roy would hopefully find bigger and better things to do with his life than follow Jason around.

"Do you think he wants a plain mug or one with words or pictures on it?" The archer had not yet let go of Jason's sleeve as though he expected the antihero to bolt at a moment's notice.

Which, to be fair, was exactly what Jason wanted to do right then. He had been a loner for so long. Could he really ever be used to other people's company? Well, he loved it when he had Roy's attention. Oftentimes, he became more clingy when it was just them or if there were trusted people around, but in other situations, no, he was all by himself. He worked alone, lived alone, and died alone.

That was what he had wanted at least, but fucking _Tim_ had to come along and ruin his plans. There wasn't supposed to have been anyone else at his safe house that night. He had made sure of it, even convincing Roy to leave for Star City for a while. None of the Bats ever bothered to grace him with their presence unless they _needed_ him for something. He was always given missions that the Bats deemed to dangerous for them, so obviously, Red Hood would do it, right? It didn't matter if he got blown to bits as long as their family was safe.

And on the plus side, if he made a single mistake while doing it, he would be close enough that they would easily be able to send him packing to Arkham.

He shook his head, clearing it of unsavory thoughts. Roy said that they wouldn't do that. Roy said that they wouldn't touch him, and if they tried, Roy said he would defend Jason. He didn't often believe people when they said things of this nature, but this was Roy he was talking about. He was more inclined to trust the archer's words than anyone else's in the entire universe.

Besides, it was quiet now. Quiet was _good_ ; quiet was _safe._ He felt more in control now than he had since he had convinced Roy to leave Gotham, and while that hadn't been a long time ago, Jason always hated his lapses in control. It was always hard to keep his head when it was loud, when the pit whispered in his ear.

But the point was that he didn't _have_ to do its bidding. He didn't have to kill all those people, and he didn't have to try to kill Tim. Jason would offer no excuses because truly there wasn't any. Just because someone was telling you to do something didn't mean that you were obligated to do it. Sure, completing the tasks it set out for you would get rid of the nasty itch that always seemed to be directly underneath his skin, but it wasn't right to attack his little brother only to feel better.

Jason didn't think that the Bats actually understood the nature of the Lazarus Pit. Damian probably did, but he never explained anything to the others. Even Roy had been confused at first when Jason had started using the words 'loud' or 'quiet' although he quickly caught on. The Bats knew that it caused a seemingly endless rage and bloodlust, but they didn't know _why_ it did that exactly, didn't know about the evil little voice permanently planted in the back of his head, just waiting to be released once more. And slowly but steadily, that itch would return, building and building until blood was once again spilled. The Pit wasn't too picky on the source; it could be from enemies, friends, or even himself. He mostly used himself since it seemed to make everyone much less upset (though didn't Roy say something about them not even knowing he was doing that?)

Roy passed him a few mugs for him to inspect. One of them had the phrase 'Will suck dick for coffee' scrawled across the top. Another had 'wait.....wait....wait....you may now speak,' the last phrase signaling that they had finished their coffee. Roy had also passed him one with the Red Robin logo on it, which Jason promptly put back; Bruce would be angry if he got something that could be used to connect their secret identities back to their real life personas. Well, Bruce was always angry at him.

_**So why not? He'll be pissed at you anyway. Get the damn** **cup.**_

His head shot up wildly as he searched for his partner, who had moved several yards away from him at this point. Why did he do that? When did Roy let go of his sleeve? Now that he noticed, the place where Roy's hand used to be felt oddly cold.

**_He's leaving you._ **

_No, he's not._

**_Abandoning you._ **

_Shut up._

Roy smiled as Jason approached him. "I was thinking about calling the others. You know, to let them know that they can call off the search."

Jason winced internally. The entire bat brigade was out at this hour on a school night, no less, and it was all his fucking fault. "Don't bother. We passed enough of O's cameras that they should know by now."

_**How could you be so** **selfish?**_

"I haven't heard anything over my comms." He looked hesitant.

"Fine. I don't care." He shrugged nonchalantly. He did care.

He did find a nice 'Fuck Batman' mug that he immediately added to the collection they had been amassing. Hey, this was all going on Bruce's card, so who gave a fuck? Regardless, he trailed after his partner as Roy wandered aimlessly around the store, wishing that the tranquil quiet would return to him. The Lazarus Pit was a scary bastard. He said frightening things, and sometimes, it convinced Jason to believe what it said.

And it wouldn't go away as easily as the Bats thought it would either. No amount of therapists and no amount of fucking Arkham was going to rid his head of the snake. He had tried literally _every_ healthy coping mechanism he could think of before resorting to more bloodshed. It wasn't like he hadn't tried. Maybe if this was a normal case of mental illness, those skills would be more effective, but not everyone got dunked in the Lazarus Pit.

Well, he supposed he had never tried prescription medication, but there was no way in hell he'd be doing that. He'd rather die.

"Jaybird?" He was brought out of his thoughts by his partner once more, who was now holding up a plastic bag.

_That's odd._

How many minutes had he lost wandering in his thoughts? Last thing he knew, Roy had still be browsing around the store, and he was pretty sure he would have noticed him making the purchase. He frowned, not liking the implications of his loss of time. What if he had _done_ something and just didn't remember doing it?

"Come on, Jaybird," the archer had moved forward to grab and tug on Jason's arm again.

He let himself be dragged, nearly stumbling over his two feet while making his way back to Roy's motorbike. Well, it was Jason's motorbike technically, but Roy would often _borrow_ it for extended periods of time. Fucking asshole.

Jason let himself become swallowed by his thoughts once more. What if Tim didn't like what they had picked out for him? If for some reason Tim was willing to give him his millionth chance and they blew it with this stupid buried hatchet, how would he deal with the loss of one of his least annoying siblings? Sure, Tim was irritating as fuck, but he wasn't, like, _Dick_ or anyone like that.

Whatever. Regardless of what happened with Tim, the encounter that would inevitably be coming up would be stressful as all hell, and when stress came out to play, so would the Pit. Jason doubted that other people's presences would be able to stop it. What if he lost control as soon as the stress started? Really killed Tim this time? Maybe it would be better to end it before he got there.

When he came back into awareness, he was already in the Batcave, and nearly all the Bats were there. Alfred was shining lights into his eyes, obviously trying to see if his pupils would dilate, and his partner was having a screaming match with Bruce in the background. Ah, what a lovely sight.

"I thought Mother trained you not to run away from your problems." A very unimpressed ten year old boy materialized beside him.

Before Alfred could protest, Jason responded. "Not running away. Tactical retreat. There's a difference."

The kid sounded cold, but Jason could sense the layers of emotion underneath of it. He may not admit it to anyone, but Damian had grown to care for others during his time as a Wayne. He may not even like it either. Hell, for all Jason knew, this was a totally unwilling thing that had happened to the boy.

He moved his gaze back to look at the feuding vigilantes. Most of the other Bats in the room were either hovering silently over Jason or watching Bruce and Roy's argument as though it was a tennis match or something, and Jason had to admit: watching his partner argue with Bruce was pretty entertaining. He wished that people would give him space though. Dick was standing so close behind Jason that any moment could turn into a cuddle moment, and there would be nothing Jason could do about it, to his horror.

Damian followed his eyes and also stared at the two of them. "They are arguing about whether or not you should be restrained."

He snorted. Of course Bruce would want to do that; what else had he expected?

_**I told you. They're trying to trap you, imprison you. You'll never be free.** _

_Whatever._

"Roy obviously thinks you are trustworthy enough to go without," the kid continued, "but Father thinks that you will hurt yourself or someone else."

"Are you?" Dick spoke up from behind Jason.

He flinched at the sudden sound, almost twirling around and attacking the man, but unfortunately, he had been disarmed. Sad. "Am I what?"

"Going to hurt someone or yourself?"

"Not at the moment, no." He growled to himself, glaring at his older brother in a way that could only mean 'shut the fuck up.'

Fortunately, they seemed to get the message, all of the vigilantes taking a few steps away from the brooding antihero.

_**Oooo, you scared them.** _

_No, I didn't._

**_Why else would they do that? Move away from you as if you were some dangerous animal?_ **

_They're just being cautious._

**_You know what happens to dangerous animals in custody, don't you? They get captured, sedated, and possibly euthanized._ **

_Good thing I'm not a raging, dangerous animal then._

**_They are going to kill you._ **

_They'd be doing me a fucking favor._

**_Aren't you going to defend yourself, you useless fuck?_ **

_Nah, bro._

Roy swam right into his line of vision again, the argument obviously finished. Based off of the fact that Bruce was no where to be seen, Jason could guess that not only Roy had one the argument but also Jason had lost some more time. How unfortunate.

"Hey, Jason, I think it would be a good time to get some sleep now, yeah? It's been a long ass day and night for all of us."

...the bitch had a good point. Sleep now. Mental crisis later.

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions and comments are welcome and appreciated!


End file.
